


Flex, Baby, Flex

by itsthedetails



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-14
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthedetails/pseuds/itsthedetails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe can't get enough of Nick in his gray tank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flex, Baby, Flex

Joe swears Nick is doing it on purpose. He knows that he wears his own fair share of sleeveless shirts on stage, but every night Nick is there practically preening in that grey tank. By the encore, he’s all sweaty and the shirt is damp, sticking to his chest and back and Joe can barely remember the words to Burnin’ Up because he can’t drag his eyes from Nick’s biceps.

Really, when the hell did his little brother become so ripped? It’s like he’s been hiding those arm muscles under suit jackets and grandpa sweaters just waiting to unleash them to torture him.

After the encore, they rush through the venue and onto the waiting bus, so they can get their police escort back to the hotel. Nick’s sprawled out on one of the couches still in his grey tank. Each time he takes a long swig from his water bottle, Joe can’t help but stare as his bicep flexes taut.

By the time they arrive back at the hotel, Joe has to rush past the waiting fans because he’s so hard in his jeans it feels like he’s going to burst through the zipper. He’s quiet in the elevator, just wanting to get into the room so he can lock himself in the bathroom and jerk off, but Nick won’t leave him alone. He’s standing practically on top of him in the almost empty elevator and leans in close every time he says something; even though Joe can hear him perfectly well from where he’s standing.

Worst of all, his arm is nudged up against Joe’s and he can feel the firm press of Nick’s defined muscle. When the elevator doors open on their floor, Joe hurries down the hall, fumbling with the keycard to get into the room before Nick catches up.

He stumbles into the room, but the door barely even starts to shut behind him when Nick is pushing it open again and following him into their suite.

He tries not to glance back and rushes into his room in the suite. Nick follows him though. Shutting the door to the bedroom and leaning back against it; he hooks his thumbs in the pockets drawing focus to his arms.

“Where’re you in such a rush to? Tomorrow’s a day off we’ve got no place to go.”

The little jerk has a stupid smirk on his face like he knows _exactly_ what Joe is thinking. All he can think of is he needs to wipe that smirk right off Nick’s face. He stalks across the room to stand chest to chest with Nick. “Shut up, don’t play dumb.”

Leaning just slightly forward, he presses his mouth to Nick’s. He opens his mouth and traces his tongue along Nick’s fat lower lip. Nick opens to him and he groans when he slips in his tongue. Nick is still back up against the door, thumbs in his pockets and elbows out to the side. Joe circles his fingers around Nick’s wrists and then slowly slides his hands up his arms until he’s palming Nick’s biceps.

The muscles under his fingers are firm and solid and he shudders as he lightly traces his fingertips over the cuts and dips on Nick’s arms. He breaks the kiss and drops a quick kiss to Nick’s shoulder before sweeping his tongue down into the sharp cut above Nick’s bicep. The skin is salty from sweat and he nips at the hard roundness of the muscle. Nick’s arm muscles flex sharply and Joe bites down harder, moaning loudly.

Nick reaches up and he palms Joe’s hips, gripping tightly, he pushes Joe back and keeps pushing until they bump into the bed and topple back on the mattress.

Joe spreads his thighs and Nick settles between them, the hard line of his cock pressing against Joe’s through two layers of denim. Nick kisses him again, then pushes up on one arm and starts to undo his jeans.

Turning his head to the side, he watches Nick’s forearm flex as he works to get his jeans open with just one hand. Stretching up, he puts his mouth to the vein that pops on Nick’s arm.

Nick’s gotten both their jeans open and shoved out of the way. His elbow quivers and then collapses so now their bodies are pressed close. Nick starts to rock against him and his dick twitches. Shifting his head, he mouths at the bulge of Nick’s bicep, letting his tongue slide over the soft skin pulled over the solid muscle. He starts to suck, mouth flooding with saliva, as Nick rolls his hips faster. He feels the hard cords of muscles with his lips and tongue, sucking harder, knowing he’ll leave a mark.

Nick’s groaning his name and panting over him—he’s almost at the edge and Joe drags his teeth along the taut flesh of Nick’s arm. Glancing up he sees Nick’s head thrown back and his eyes fluttering shut. Nick shakes and shivers over him, grinds down harder and spills hot wet across his belly. Joe jerks his hips up, spreading Nick’s slippery come, and then bites down hard on Nick’s bicep.

He arches his back and comes. It takes a long moment before the tension runs out of him, Nick still sprawled heavy across his body. His face is cradled in the crook of Nick’s elbow and he can see the dark bruise blooming across Nick’s pale skin.

He licks over the bruise, to soothe it and wonders what the internet will say about the black bruise on Nick’s arm when he wears his tank at their next concert. He shifts so he can get a better look at it, knowing he put it there and decides he doesn’t care.


End file.
